


Five Weeks Between Friends

by Gelid_illuminant



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale loves Crowley, Crowley loves Aziraphale, Fluff, M/M, No Smut, Wings, bed sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:42:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22396504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gelid_illuminant/pseuds/Gelid_illuminant
Summary: Five weeks of developing romance.
Relationships: Aziraphale and Crowley, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley and Aziraphale - Relationship
Comments: 4
Kudos: 59





	Five Weeks Between Friends

So, the Apocalypse didn’t happen, and Aziraphale and Crowley returned to normal life on Earth. Except for one monumental change. They now felt able to spend time together. Crowley had called Aziraphale his _best friend_. So that’s what they acted like. They would meet up once a week and do something together. Crowley suspected that real best friends _didn’t_ meet that often, but neither of them had anyone else to spend time with, so it made sense to do it this way. He’d tried to form relationships with humans in the past, but it never worked out. It was hard to disguise his true nature for prolonged periods, and humans…humans were fragile. Short-lived. Brief candles, snuffed out by the unrelenting dark wind of Death. And so, his sole companion was his former enemy, the angel Aziraphale.

Tonight’s outing was dinner at a new restaurant that had opened up in Soho. The atmosphere was all warm and soft; Crowley felt out of place under the gentle orange lights and plush wall hangings. But Aziraphale fit right in. He looked natural here, at ease. It was good to see the angel relaxing. Crowley nibbled absent-mindedly on a breadstick and sipped wine while Aziraphale embarked upon a four-course meal. They talked of this and that, lazily, not really committing to any one subject. It was…nice. Crowley enjoyed himself. He was finally able to admit to himself that he enjoyed evenings like this. Could enjoy more evenings like this. With Aziraphale. His best friend. He wouldn’t entertain any other thoughts about what Aziraphale might be to him, not now. It was still new, this freedom, and this relationship. He couldn’t let himself put the new Arrangement at risk.

After the dinner, they split the bill equally and headed out onto the cold, dark, but still busy streets. It was getting on towards Autumn now, and the weather was turning fast. Crowley didn’t like the cold, part of his snakey nature, he supposed. He wondered what kind of weather Aziraphale liked, and wondered how he could ever ask such an inane question. They never made small talk, they had never needed to. Small talk was a segue into a deeper conversation, and they had always talked deeply. Not as deeply as Crowley maybe would have liked, but still, deeply. Their first conversation had immediately been about Right and Wrong. After that, small talk just seemed irrelevant. What did an eternal being care for the wind and rain anyway? As with all things, it would pass. Except for them. They would always be here. Crowley wondered if his feelings for Aziraphale would always be here.

On the way to the Bentley, Aziraphale gave a wide, loud yawn. He _yawned_. Crowley had _never_ seen him yawn before. Was the meal really that heavy? And combined with the coziness of the restaurant…well, no small wonder. Crowley climbed into the driver’s seat, and waited until Aziraphale was settled before starting the engine. He drove to the bookshop, going slower than usual. He didn’t question himself as to why – knew deep down that he wanted to give Aziraphale a more relaxing journey than he might have otherwise. It just wasn’t right to mess up a guy’s rest after a big meal. Plus, he didn’t want said meal coming back up all over his nice interior. Aziraphale didn’t seem to notice, as he closed his eyes and leaned against the door, letting out a soft sigh that made the hair stand up on Crowley’s neck.

They arrived at the bookshop and Aziraphale slowly moved to open the door, yawning again. He stepped out onto the street and stumbled a little. In a flash, Crowley was out of the car and holding Aziraphale’s arms to steady him. “You okay, angel?” He asked quietly. Aziraphale nodded slowly. “I’m just a little tired.” He murmured. Crowley led him to the front door of the shop, saying, “let’s get you inside.” Aziraphale fumbled with the key a little before getting the door open and stepping inside. “Thank you for a lovely evening, Crowley. I had a-” He yawned once more, then stumbled backwards. Crowley caught him, arms around his shoulders, and held him steady. “Okay, angel, let me give you a hand.” He closed and locked the shop door with one hand, keeping his free arm firmly around Aziraphale. Then he gently turned Aziraphale around and guided him up the stairs to the apartment above the shop.

Crowley located Aziraphale’s bedroom door and led the angel through it. The room was tidy like the rest of the apartment, but for a few piles of books. The bed was so old that it had curtains around it; they were deep blue. Crowley drew the curtains aside and helped Aziraphale to sit on the edge of the bed. He snapped his fingers to put Aziraphale into flannel pyjamas. “Oh, dear, you needn’t…” Aziraphale mumbled sleepily. Crowley sighed. “You’re clearly too sleepy to do it yourself.” He shifted the covers so Aziraphale could get under them. “I don’t sleep.” Aziraphale yawned. “You don- What? An creature of pleasure like you _doesn’t sleep_? This I don’t believe.” Crowley retorted. “You’re exhausted, angel. And no wonder, if you don’t even sleep! Get into bed, okay? You need it.” Aziraphale mumbled a protest but lay back when Crowley gently pushed him down. His eyes were already closed.

Crowley was a bit uncomfortable as he tucked the covers around Aziraphale. Never had he pictured himself in this situation. He never did allow himself to fantasise about Aziraphale; it made reality too painful to return to. But here he was, in his bedroom, tucking him in. Like he’d tucked in Warlock so many times. _Ugh_ , that was a horrible comparison. This didn’t feel the same at all. This felt like…he didn’t know what it felt like. But he wanted to keep feeling it. Rather than allowing himself to dwell on it, Crowley moved away towards the door. But halfway there, a plaintive murmur stopped him. “Crowley, stay.”

 _Stay._ A simple word, but loaded. There was longing in Aziraphale’s voice, and it called out to the longing in Crowley’s heart. How could any demon resist? Crowley turned back. Aziraphale still had his eyes closed, but his hand was reaching out for Crowley. Crowley reluctantly took the offered hand in his, felt warmth spread through his body from the contact. “Sure, angel. I’ll stay…” He let go of Aziraphale’s hand and moved around the bed. He didn’t miss the small noise of protest when their contact was broken. Crowley climbed up, on top of the covers. He was pretty cold but getting under the blankets…well, it would just be weird. This was weird enough already. He settled down next to Aziraphale, who rolled over with a quiet groan to face him. He opened his eyes, and they were startlingly blue. Crowley couldn’t stop himself breathing in sharply. He was glad he was still wearing his sunglasses. “Goodnight, Crowley.”

“Night, angel.”

**

Weak sunlight was lighting up dust motes when Crowley awoke. He could smell toast. So, Aziraphale even bothered with breakfast. He was sure learning a lot about the angel lately. Crowley thought back to the events of last night and found himself shocked at his own boldness. He must have been drunk. Helping Aziraphale to bed, tucking him in, and actually staying there with him for the entire night! What had Aziraphale thought when he woke up? Had he been disgusted, to find a demon in his bed? He hadn’t thrown Crowley out, so…maybe it was okay? Crowley took a moment to take it all in. He was in Aziraphale’s bed, however unused it may be. It was a private space. Secret. At least it was in his case. He’d never let anyone into his bedroom…except, perhaps, for Aziraphale. Yeah. Maybe they could try this in Crowley’s bed one day. But no, this would never happen again. There was no chance that he’d be blessed that way.

“Why do you have a bed?” Crowley asked as he came out of the bedroom, and settled himself at the little kitchen table. Aziraphale was at the stove, stirring something in a pot. “It came with the building and I never bothered to get rid of it.” He replied. He turned off the stove and poured the contents of the pot onto a plate. It was beans. Crowley sighed. “This would be easier for you if you had a microwave.” He pointed out. Aziraphale rolled his eyes as he set two bean-filled plates on the table. “I managed for thousands of years without one, I don’t need one now.” With that, he dunked a triangle of toast into the beans. Crowley picked up a fork and poked at his food. He had eaten a breadstick last night so he wasn’t hungry, but he wanted to be polite, so he ate a few beans. “So why don’t you sleep?” He asked. “It’s a waste of time that could be spent reading, of course.”

After breakfast, Crowley waved a simple goodbye to Aziraphale and agreed to meet him next week. He went home, and spent a fair while thinking about the previous night. He’d actually _held Aziraphale’s hand._ And he’d _laid_ on the _bed_ next to him. All night. He’d honestly slept pretty badly, what with the desire to just watch Aziraphale. The way his face slackened with sleep, finally allowing himself to relax after six thousand years of keeping rigid. Wasn’t that just like the warrior he was, deep down, beneath all the soft creamy layers. Stubborn, unyielding old soldier. But he’d given that up a long time ago. And now, he had finally admitted it to himself, and to Crowley. Now he could indulge his hedonism with impunity. No more Heaven breathing down his bowtie-ensconced neck. What if…what if he was indulging in more than food and wine and friendship? What if he was opening up to Crowley and…offering something quite different? Crowley dismissed the thought, wouldn’t allow it to overtake his mind. He couldn’t give in to fantasy now.

**

A week passed and it was Sunday – the day they usually met up. They hadn’t arranged anything specific, so Crowley figured they would stay in and get hammered. That sounded good to him. But it had been cloudy all day, and just as he was getting ready to leave the apartment, the rain set in. Crowley’s relationship with rain was complicated. It always made him too sleepy to perform his duties, but he _enjoyed_ being sleepy. It felt good. And now he didn’t _have_ any duties, he could sleep all he wanted. Except for the fact that it was his day to see Aziraphale. Even sleep couldn’t get in the way of that. So, Crowley put on a black overcoat to guard against the weather. Once he stepped out onto the street, he realised just how cold it was. He hopped into the car and miracled it to be warmer. The coziness didn’t help him with the increasing drowsiness. His body was slow and heavy, and begging to go up to bed. But he couldn’t go a whole week without seeing Aziraphale, not anymore. How different from the time when they had spent centuries apart. He didn’t want that time to return, not ever. So he forced his eyes to stay open and drove as fast as he could to the bookshop.

“Hello, Crowley! How are you? I thought we could play chess, have some wine…”

“Sounds great, yeah.” Crowley slumped onto the nearest couch as soon as he got into Aziraphale’s little apartment. It was so warm, and the couch was so soft, and the air smelled of Aziraphale…he could so easily fall asleep like this. _Crowley._ It would be so easy to just drift off. _Crowley?_ Such a simple thing to let himself dream. _“Crowley!”_ Aziraphale’s voice brought him back to reality. Had he seriously fallen asleep in front of him? On his couch? “Just a bit tired. The rain, you know?” Crowley sat up a little straighter. Aziraphale looked concerned as he sat next to him. “You didn’t have to come, if you’re tired.”

“Wanted to.”

“Well…you just rest here and I’ll make us some tea, would you like that?” Aziraphale’s voice was so gentle, so understanding. Crowley could only nod. He watched Aziraphale bustle off to the kitchen, and listened to him pottering around making the tea. He felt his eyes close and couldn’t be bothered to fight it.

There was something draped over his body. It was soft and smelled warm. Something was pressed against his side. It smelled good, like old books and Aziraphale’s cologne. It was Aziraphale. Pressed up against him, under the blanket. Crowley forced his eyes open, behind his sunglasses. Aziraphale was sitting there, right up against him, cradling a steaming cup in his hands. He was whispering something. “…so you can just sleep all you want, I truly do not mind. We’re friends, after all. I suppose this must be some kind of hibernation thing, you being sort of a snake. Do you need to eat a whole lot, and then sleep for a few months? I do hope not, I would miss you…” Crowley closed his eyes again, letting Aziraphale think he was still asleep. He sat there, folded in warmth, breathing deeply. He dreamt of white feathers floating round his face.

Crowley woke to find Aziraphale had moved away. He was practicing card tricks and sipping at a glass of wine. Crowley stretched and yawned luxuriously. Aziraphale looked up at him and smiled. “You slept quite awhile, didn’t you? Would you like to have dinner? I can make stew.” Aziraphale suggested hopefully. Crowley stood up to stretch out more, and felt Aziraphale’s eyes on him. “I guess I could eat, and stew sounds alright.” He answered. He’d never eaten something Aziraphale had made before. He didn’t know that he knew how to cook. It made sense though, given his propensity for food. Crowley sat back down. There was a stone-cold cup of tea on the coffee table. He miracled it hot again and took a sip as Aziraphale went off back to the kitchen.

They shared the meal in silence. Crowley ate a lot more than usual, and felt like going back to sleep. But he managed to stay awake, and watch Aziraphale from behind his sunglasses. He enjoyed watching Aziraphale eat, seeing the abandon on his face. The happy sigh as he chewed on a piece of stew-laden bread, the little breath into his glass as he took a sip of wine. Crowley would never let Aziraphale know that he liked to watch him this way. That would be mortifying.

After dinner, Aziraphale went down into the bookshop with Crowley to see him to the door. “I’ll see you next week, then?” Crowley asked. Even now, he was still afraid, every time, that Aziraphale would refuse. But Aziraphale smiled his bright, infectious smile and nodded. “Of course! What shall we do?” He asked. Crowley had thought about this already. “You should come to my place, I’ve got a movie, _The Lion in Winter._ You’ll like it.” He kept his tone casual as he spoke. Aziraphale seemed a little reluctant, but he agreed. “Will you come pick me up?” He asked. Crowley replied, “Sure. I’ll come by at seven to get you. Right, see you then.” He hovered by the door. Aziraphale smiled again. “I shall see you then.” And then he was wrapping his arms around Crowley’s shoulders and leaning in close. Crowley’s breath caught in his chest and his heart started to pound so hard that he barely noticed when Aziraphale broke away. “I-uhm…yeah, bye.”

Crowley hurried out to his car and climbed in, his breath coming in short gasps. They hardly ever touched. His body still felt warm from the all-too-brief contact. If he’d been in control of his faculties, he would have relished the hug, but he’d been too surprised. Shocked, in fact. Aziraphale was always so…well, prim. Always maintaining his personal space, his little bubble. Crowley looked at his hands. The knuckles were white from how hard he was gripping the wheel. Was this how it was, now? Would they keep touching in these little ways? Gripping hands, like that night…quick hugs…cuddling up on the couch. Crowley didn’t know how he could take it. How he could reign his emotions in, if Aziraphale was going to _touch_ him? How could he hide how he truly felt if Aziraphale was bringing an element of intimacy to their friendship? He drove home at speed, and fell into bed, feeling very confused.

**

“So, what’s this film about, anyway?” Aziraphale asked as they neared Crowley’s apartment. “Well, angel, it’s about this king and queen who argue over who the heir should be.” Crowley replied. He heard a prim sniffing noise and turned to he one of hie neighbours, an older woman, sharply turn on her heel away from them. She’d always been quite rude, but what was that about? Was it because of Aziraphale? What was her problem with… _oh._ Crowley had called him ‘angel’. She thought they were human. To her eyes, one human male had just called another human male by an affectionate nickname. Aziraphale was nonplussed. “What is that woman upset about Crowley?” He asked as they entered the apartment. “Nothing, _angel_. She’s just like that.”

Aziraphale hung his coat up on a hook by the door. “She must have some trial in her life.” He said, angelically. Crowley rolled his eyes. “Some people are just shitty.” He hung up his jacket next to Aziraphale’s coat. The sight of that made Crowley’s heart flutter for some reason. “I’m sure you’re wrong, Crowley.” Crowley ignored this. Aziraphale settled in on the couch. Crowley had bought a couch just so he could have Aziraphale over to watch movies. It was sleek and black, but covered in soft cloth so Aziraphale would be comfortable. Crowley set up the film to play, opened the wine and sat down on the opposite end of the couch. He’d even set out a few snacks.

For the first thirty minutes of the film, Aziraphale nibbled away at the snacks, occasionally complimenting Crowley about how nice they were, or commenting on the film. Then he started shuffling in his seat. He rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck. The constant movement was beginning to get annoying. Crowley sighed and gave into his urges. “You look really stiff, angel. Do you…want me to…” He couldn’t believe he was actually going to say this. But seeing Aziraphale so uncomfortable was just awful. “Preen your wings?”

“Oh. Um, yes, I suppose so. That would be quite nice.” Aziraphale had turned a little pink and was keeping his eyes downcast. Was it really that strange, just a simple wing-preening? Yeah, it was pretty strange. But he moved to sit on the floor in front of Crowley, and presented his starlight-white wings. For a moment, Crowley was breathless. Then he gathered his wits and set to work.

His hands stroked lightly over the feathers. He straightened them, pulled out a few loose ones. It was incredibly intimate, particularly when Aziraphale sighed or moaned at Crowley’s touch. Crowley wondered if Aziraphale was paying any attention to the film at all. “Thank you, Crowley. This is so kind of you to do.” He whispered, his voice hoarse for some reason. Crowley grunted. “Not kind, just you were shuffling around, being annoying…”

“Yes, of course. Don’t mind me.” There was a hint of laughter in Aziraphale’s voice now. Crowley bit his lip. He still couldn’t get over this ‘nice’ and ‘kind’ thing. Hell had told him so many times that he was heartless, cruel, evil. That he _had_ to be that way. Now, Hell didn’t have any power over him anymore. But they did, in his head…

Could Aziraphale’s gentle words coax him away from that line of thinking? Crowley found himself hoping they could.

“There, done. Feel any better?” Crowley asked, angry at himself for the tremor in his voice. Aziraphale folded his wings and put them away. He turned and smiled up at Crowley, who felt his cheeks redden. Aziraphale’s smile always made him melt. “I feel _much_ better. That was very relaxing.” Crowley knew that Aziraphale was just aching to say another _thank you._ “Do you want me to do you, now?” Aziraphale asked innocently. Crowley went bright red now. “Uh-wh-what?”

“Your wings?”

“…Oh. S-sure.” Crowley moved onto the floor, a little unsteadily. Aziraphale sat back on the couch, flexing his fingers. Crowley opened his wings and closed his eyes, bracing himself for the first touch. How could he keep himself from moaning when Aziraphale-

 _Oh_ , he _couldn’t._ It was sinfully divine, the feel of Aziraphale’s hands on his feathers. Gently tugging at them, putting them back into place or pulling them out altogether. Aziraphale gave soft murmurs as he worked, a little _sorry_ every time he pulled feather out, a quiet _that’s it_ as he moved one into place. Crowley bit his lip hard so he wouldn’t moan.

The credits were rolling. Crowley was hugging Aziraphale’s legs, and he felt groggy. He’d fallen asleep right there on the floor, _hugging Aziraphale’s legs_. His head was resting on Aziraphale’s knee. Aziraphale’s hand was in his hair. His wings were still on display, so he hid them. He looked up shyly. Aziraphale hummed happily. “Hello again, Crowley. Did you have a nice sleep?” He was smiling that deadly smile again. Crowley couldn’t help smiling back, just a little. “Yeah, was good.” He stood up regretfully and turned off the TV. “Did you…like the film?” He asked. Aziraphale shrugged. “I didn’t pay that much attention. Well, I suppose you should take me home now? Thank you for a lovely evening.” They went down to the Bentley, Aziraphale’s words echoing in Crowley’s mind. _I didn’t pay that much attention._

All the way back to the bookshop, Crowley didn’t let himself think about what they had done that night. How intimate it had been. How soft and loving. They were friends, that was all. He just focused on the road. Just focused on driving. Once parked beside the bookshop, Aziraphale let himself out and stood beside the open door, looking in at Crowley. “I’ll see you next week. Come to my place?”

“Mhm.”

“Goodnight, Crowley.” And with that, he left. Crowley sat there for a moment, in a daze, before regaining his focus and driving home. He nearly hit several people. Back in his apartment, he finally allowed himself to think.

Animals groomed each other all the time, as friends. It was normal. Apes did it, cats did it, birds did it. But there weren’t apes or cats or birds. They were hereditary enemies, now having formed an alliance. A _friendship_. Did Aziraphale also think it was unbearably intimate, or had it felt normal to him? He he been annoyed when Crowley fell asleep on him, or had he liked it? He certainly hadn’t woken him up. He’d sat there and _stroked Crowley’s hair!_ That wasn’t something friends did, was it? Crowley had to admit that he didn’t know. He’d never had a friend before, not really. Not even in Heav-

No, that was a rabbit hole he would not go down. Did Aziraphale have any other friends, though? Probably he didn’t, and that would mean that he didn’t know how friends behaved, either. That made more sense. It made more sense than the contact being motivated by…well…romantic love.

Then Crowley realised that what friends share is a form of love. And surely, one form of love can be easily replaced with another. He finally let himself imagine how he might woo Aziraphale. How he might show the angel that this demon was entirely capable of love.

**

Crowley arrived at the bookshop, as he had done so many times now. This time felt different. _He_ felt different. All week, he’d been thinking about Aziraphale. He’d let himself imagine what it would be like to be with him, romantically. Would they touch more? Would they…cuddle? Would they kiss? Probably best not to think about that right as he was about to see him. Crowley went inside, heralded by the bell above the door. Aziraphale came out from behind a bookshelf, wearing white cotton gloves and holding an ancient tome that appeared to be about Alchemy. “Crowley! It’s wonderful to see you! Go upstairs, I’ll be along in a jiffy.” He went back behind the bookshelf. Crowley went up the stairs, wondering what Aziraphale had planned for this evening. He draped himself over an over-stuffed couch and toyed with the patchwork quilt that covered it. It was very old. Everything Aziraphale owned was old. Would he be willing to have a new sort of relationship with Crowley?

“I don’t have anything in particular in mind for tonight, I’m afraid.” Aziraphale was saying as he came into the room. “We could play a board game, perhaps?”

“Read to me,” Crowley had thought this through very carefully. How to woo Aziraphale? Come at him through the heart – books. Aziraphale looked stunned. “Oh, are you sure? You wouldn’t rathe-”

“Read to me,” Crowley said again, a little more confidently. He picked up a book that was resting on the coffee table. It was _The Tragical History of the Life and Death of Doctor Faustus_ by Christopher Marlowe. “Read this.” He said simply. Aziraphale shook his head. “Not that. I’ll pick out something nicer.”

“Read this, angel.”

So Aziraphale settled on the couch and drew the quilt over his legs. He cracked open the old book and began to read. Crowley waited for a few pages until he made his move. He lay down, resting his head on Aziraphale’s lap. He looked up at him from behind his sunglasses, waiting for a reaction. None came, except for a hand moving to his hair and stroking, ever so slowly. There was no break in Aziraphale’s flow, no hitch in his voice. He just kept going as if nothing had happened. Crowley didn’t know what to think about that. Did Aziraphale think this was a normal friend thing? Was he totally unaffected? Or was he hiding how he truly felt? Crowley closed his eyes and let himself drift on the warmth. The feeling of Aziraphale’s hand, of his breathing. The scent of him. Gradually he became unaware of the specific words, and only heard the sound of Aziraphale’s voice.

“Crowley, it’s time to wake up.” Aziraphale was saying. He was gently shaking Crowley. Crowley sat up blearily. “Whazz the time?” He asked sleepily. Aziraphale smiled fondly. “It’s morning, Crowley. You slept all through the night. I’m sorry, I should have woken you earlier.” His voice was full of feeling, but Crowley couldn’t identify which feeling. Crowley sat up, rubbing his head. He could tell his hair was all messed up. How embarrassing. Had that happened because Aziraphale was stroking it? “I should go.” He announced. Aziraphale looked disappointed. “Oh, I thought you might join me for breakfast.” He suggested, his eyes wide. Crowley shook his head. “Not hungry. I’ll let you get on with it.” He stood up and stretched. Aziraphale stood up, too, and brought Crowley into a hug. Crowley leaned into it, savouring this moment. One, two, three, and they broke apart. “Have a good week, Crowley.”

“You too, angel.”

Once in his apartment, Crowley considered what had happened. Aziraphale had let him sleep on his lap for an entire night. Was that…usual for friends? Of course it wasn’t! So why had Aziraphale done it? Was he just being polite? Would even an angel ever be that polite? Or was it something else? A hint that he might feel the same way? Crowley’s heart hurt. It was too hard to let himself believe that Aziraphale might feel the same thing he felt. After so many centuries of distance, how could it be true? But everything was different now. After Armageddon, everything had changed. They were so close, now. Could there be a chance that Aziraphale… _loved_ Crowley?

**  
  


Crowley arrived at the bookshop once again. Once again, they hadn’t made any concrete plans. Crowley took a few deep breaths. Tonight was the night, he’d decided. The night to show Aziraphale how he felt. He wouldn’t _say_ anything, that would be uncool. Un-demonic. But he’d…hold him, and kiss him. Yeah, that was a good plan. Angels liked love. Aziraphale would definitely kiss him back. Yeah.

He went inside. He loved the sound the bell made. Aziraphale was nowhere to be seen. “Angel!” Crowley called. He heard footsteps above, and Aziraphale came down the stairs, smiling broadly. In his heightened emotional state, Crowley couldn’t help blushing at the sight. “Crowley! How nice to see you! I’ve lit a fire upstairs, it’s very…cozy.” His smiled deepened. Crowley gazed adoringly at it from behind his glasses.

Upstairs, a fire was burning cheerfully in the grate. Crowley sat on the floor next to it, grateful for the warmth. He gazed into the coals, the shapes the fire made. Aziraphale sat next to him. “So,” Crowley began, still looking into the fire. “We could read some more. Or we could make dinner together.” Crowley had never cooked anything in his life, but the idea of doing it with Aziraphale was quite appealing. He felt Aziraphale shuffle closer. “No. Not tonight. I have something else in mind.” He put his arm around Crowley’s waist. Crowley went stiff. Aziraphale had the same idea Crowley had. To hold each other and watch the fire. This was going better than Crowley had anticipated. He let his own arm snake around Aziraphale’s shoulders. Aziraphale leaned in against his chest, his head resting on Crowley’s shoulder.

They sat like that for a long time, only moving occasionally to stoke the flames. Crowley liked watching Aziraphale work, but he liked holding him even more. It was warm, and soft, and ever so comforting. He considered asking if he could preen his wings again, but just holding him was perfect. Aziraphale let out a contented sigh and closed his eyes. Crowley allowed himself to watch Aziraphale’s face instead of the fire. He looked so relaxed, so peaceful. Lit up by the orange light, he looked even more beautiful than usual. How easy it would be, to shift their positions just a little, to kiss him. It was perfect, this moment. He could do it. He could take this risk. He could almost taste Aziraphale’s lips on his. It would be so easy to do. But he didn’t. He just sat still and watched him. Watched as those blue eyes opened again, watched the smile spread across the angelic face as Aziraphale moved.

“Crowley.” His name was a whisper on Aziraphale’s tongue. “My dearest Crowley. Come here.” Aziraphale’s hand came up to remove Crowley’s sunglasses, and then went to rest on his cheek. Crowley felt naked without them on. Felt _seen_. It was good to be this way in front of Aziraphale. He gazed openly into Aziraphale’s eyes. “Yes, angel? What is it?” His own voice was quiet, too. He didn’t know why, but speaking quietly seemed right. “You do know that I love you, don’t you?” Aziraphale murmured. Crowley smiled. “I know, angel. I love you too.” They closed the distance, and their lips glided together. So soft, so light. They broke apart to look at each other again. “I know it’s not cool to be in love, but I guess I’m not that cool. I love you, Aziraphale.”

“I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> It's the middle of Summer where I live, but it's been very Wintry so I wanted to write something cozy.


End file.
